


Is this the place that I come home?

by Skyson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Phil Coulson, Post-Season/Series 05, Secret Relationship, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: Where he went didn't matter, what only matters is where he is when she's around.





	Is this the place that I come home?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Alan Walker song "The Spectre".

 

"Of course. It's you." Coulson noted with tired fondness.

Daisy turned from the grave she'd been facing, her expression hesitantly pleased. From what he could tell, anyway; her glasses covered her eyes, her bangs hid her eyebrows.

"Since May dug up your old one... I wasn't sure where else to go." Daisy told him, taking a half a step to the side to allow him room to approach the gravestone.

"You look good." Coulson complimented honestly, his eyes lowered toward his father's name etched on the marble. It looked recently brushed clean; he wondered if Daisy had done that, and he was touched by the idea.

"I could say the same." She replied, her tone unreadable. "Especially for a dead man."

He couldn't apologize for keeping them in the dark. They've been doing well without him, were growing once again. It had been two years, anyway. For the most part, they had moved on. Most of them, anyway.

"How long have you known?" Coulson murmured, finally lifting his gaze toward her again. She removed her sunglasses, and he almost felt relieved at being able to see her eyes. It had been so long since he'd last looked into her eyes.

"I'd like to say that I've always known," She pursed her lips and shrugged, "But that's not realistic, is it?"

It wasn't exactly an answer, either. He shouldn't be surprised that she was able to keep - or discover - tabs on him, though.

"Why are you here, Daisy?" Coulson wondered, careful that he didn't sound suspicious. She blinked at him, and quietly gazed at him for so long that it almost started to become awkward.

"Hello, Phil." She greeted softly, and her eyes never lied to him. They never could.

He stepped closer to her and reached for her arms, pulling her into a hug. She was immediately receptive, but it was different than he remembered. There was more give, and less take. As if she somehow knew that _he_  needed this contact more than _she_  did. Although she needed it, too; he could tell by the way her fingers clenched around the back of his leather jacket.

She continued to hold him long beyond the socially acceptable 'friendly' time limit, long beyond possibly any kind of normal hug. She held him until they breathed as one and then she held him some more. He held her, too.

For the first time in over a year, he felt his feet returning back to Earth.  
  
 **... ...**  
  


"You're not staying here." Daisy noted confidently, her hands in her pockets as they walked together.

"Of course not." He replied, gazing at the familiar and the unfamiliar of his hometown streets. Previously, the changes would have made him morose. His last visit here, so many years ago, had broken his heart a little. Now, it didn't matter so much. It was just another town in just another state. It wasn't his home anymore; it hadn't been in a long time.

"I want you to have this." Daisy said, pulling a phone out of her pocket and holding it out to him. He glanced at it, and then raised his eyebrow at her. "Take it apart, if you want. It's completely clean, untrackable. I have one just like it. It communicates directly with mine and nowhere else."

"Why?" Coulson wondered, his hand reaching for the device anyway. It was dangerous. He'd given up everything electronic over the last two years; making it practically impossible for anyone to track him. But this was Daisy, and the temptation for further contact with her was too great. He was already breaking half of his self-imposed rules simply walking with her on the sidewalk.

"So I can see you again." Daisy replied as if it were nothing. Coulson gave her a warning look, but he slipped the phone into his pocket. "You don't need to tell me where you are," She assured him, "but I will tell you where I am. Maybe one day you'll come find me."

She stopped walking then, and he went on for a few steps before he realized. He turned back to face her, furrowing his brow.

"You do look good." She said. She smiled a little bit, and then turned and, after checking for cars, walked across the road.

Coulson took a step after her, wanted to call out to her, but then he stopped. No. He was done with SHIELD. Every part of it.

Still, his chest ached as he watched her disappear around the block. She had grown so much since he'd first met her. She held herself differently, walked more confidently. He was so proud of her.

He was so in love with her.  
  


**\------**

 

"You, again." Daisy sighed tiredly, her back to him in the coffeeshop. He had just sat down at the table behind hers, and she'd recognized him immediately, although he'd given her no warning of his arrival.

He'd gotten her text a week ago, and had never replied. He hadn't even been sure he would come, until a few hours ago while sitting on the bus.

"Are you alone on this one?" Coulson asked, perusing the menu in front of him.

"No. Bobbi is waiting at the motel for pastries."

"Bobbi." Coulson repeated in a whisper, his focus deterring from the menu for a moment. He didn't know that she'd been pardoned, able to return to duty, and the thought choked him up.

"Her husband is back at work, as well." Daisy mentioned, and Coulson knew that she meant Hunter. "He was... unhappy to hear about your... passing."

Coulson clenched his jaw as he did his best not to react to her words, even as he felt moisture gathering a bit in his eyes. Damn it, he _missed_  that annoying Brit.

"Good morning, sir!" A chipper waitress greeted him. "What can I get for you?"

"Uh, coffee. Please." Coulson managed, his voice a little weaker than he'd intended. Perhaps she would just think he was getting over a cold.

"Of course! We're brewing a fresh pot now. I'll bring it right out." She promised, and headed to check on one of her other tables.

"Phil," Daisy whispered lowly by his left ear, and he glanced over as if he were looking out the window, and noticed that she was reaching her right hand back. He immediately reached with his left to hold onto her hand in the space between them, carding their fingers together. With their chairs back-to-back, it was more difficult for random passers-by to notice, and even if they did, he didn't care.

He could feel her warmth slowly filling him, from his palm to his arm to his chest and the rest of his body. He brushed his thumb over her knuckle, holding onto her firmly.

He'd been floating for a month, but he was back to Earth, once again.  
  


**\------**

 

The venue was small, almost entirely standing room only. The bar was stocked with mediocre, overpriced drinks, the few tables provided were already occupied, and the performance was not his usual type of music at all.

Nevertheless, he stood not-quite-in-the-middle of the crowd, a plastic cup of beer in his hand, nodding his head appreciatively to the beat the EDM artist was putting together. He was apparently very good, because everyone in the crowd was dancing with some level of energy, bodies pulsing along with the neon lights and the thrumming bass.

"This way,"

Her voice brushed against his consciousness as her hand did his arm, and then she was gone, and he was turning toward a glimpse of hair disappearing in the crowd. He followed without question, half-empty beer forgotten but still clutched in his grip as he shifted and moved with the dancing fans.

The smell was everywhere, but it was particularly strong here, and Coulson could see why she led him to this part of the crowd. They were swaying more than jumping, a little more his speed, although he hadn't smoked pot in quite a few decades.

"Hello," Daisy suddenly reappeared behind him again, her body pressed against his back, her mouth against his ear so that he could hear her.

Her hands on his hips, though, why?

"Dance, Phil. You stick out like a sore thumb." She swayed, her touch guiding his body to follow. He shifted his chin over his shoulder to speak behind him,

"I'm the oldest person in here,"

"No one cares. Just dance." Daisy promised him, her face so very close to his. Then she put her hand up to her mouth, and smirked at him around the joint she'd put between her lips before she leaned her head back and focused on the music. Coulson wanted to stare at her in surprise, to turn toward her and say something, but she was still plastered against his back, moving, and that felt much better than admonishing her recklessness.

He honestly didn't care that she was being reckless. He wasn't her boss anymore. He was here with her, tasting the weed in the air, his beer warming in his hand, his heart pulsing with the music that was starting to grow on him.

He drank the rest of his beer quickly, and then turned toward her, spying a pile of forgotten cups on the nearby abandoned table and adding his to the mix. Daisy took another pull from the joint, and then held it to him, still dancing very closely. He stared at her as he slowly accepted it from her, wondering what this whole thing was, wondering how they had found themselves here.

Then he took a long drag, and he pushed all thoughts of their past from his mind. He didn't think about his past anymore, and he wouldn't start now. She was here now with him, touching him, smiling in amazed surprise as he held the smoke in his mouth for a moment, re-familiarizing himself with the taste. He let it out slowly, and then smirked at her, and handed the joint back. She accepted it, letting out a laugh, and the sound trickled through his bones as she slung her arm around his neck and danced.

He didn't fight the effects of the weed or the atmosphere as the night went on; he let it all wash over him, take him over, until his entire entity was focused right here, right where Daisy's body touched his. The entire universe was there, in the palms of their hands, and the more that they touched, the more it grew. Coulson wondered if it would envelop them, swallow them whole, and then he thought that maybe it had done that already.

His back shoved up against the wall and his mind cleared enough for him to realize the music was a little more dull, they were out of the lights, that there were no other bodies around him, there was only Daisy.

There was always only ever Daisy.

"I miss you so much," She breathed against his neck, her hands pushing up under his shirt, down into his trousers. She'd said the words they weren't supposed to say, but he didn't care, because she'd also just made him realize how hard he was.

Had he had that boner on the dance floor? Had she felt it?

"Daisy," He gasped. In any case, she was feeling it now.

His mind spun, and he felt his feet leaving the ground again. He wasn't scared this time, though, because this time Daisy was right there with him.  
  


**\------**

 

For three months they met like that. Loud music and flashing lights and getting high and fondling like young lovers. Coulson tried not to think too much in the quiet moments between, but he couldn't help wonder what Daisy told her friends, her coworkers. Where did they think she was going? Who did they think she was meeting?

He never questioned her. It was her life, he was just living in a part of it. He'd take whatever moments he could get, especially when those moments pulled him back to the ground. He was a billion little pieces until she touched him. She crafted him back together, carefully, lovingly, left him whole and somehow knew when he started drifting apart again to return and repeat the entire process.

Without her he was a ghost, unseen, unseeing. With her, he was more alive than he'd ever been.

In almost the fifth month of his new existence, for the first time, he was the one to message her a location. As soon as she stepped into the hotel room he kissed her, until they were both breathless, until her concern about his initiated contact faded away, until they were both only thinking about each other. He made love to her all night long, until the only thing she knew was his name, until the only thing he knew was her.

The following day her work phone rang, her partner wondering where she'd disappeared off to, and she ignored the message; prying apart the components of the phone and tossing them to the side. Just as Coulson felt like he was starting to float away, Daisy held him down. Daisy held him down and did things to him until he felt that he would never leave the Earth again.  
  


**\------**

 

Coulson couldn't give it any of the conventional labels that society determined a "good" relationship. Healthy? Probably not entirely. There was too much lying involved, although the lying was never to one another. Stable? Committed yes, but stable was something else. Enduring? Well, that one worked. They'd endured fuck-all. Then there was connection and companionship, two other labels that Coulson didn't have to worry about, other things that he and Daisy had always had. Communication... that one was iffy, but only because it was dangerous.

He didn't feel sorry at all about the rest of SHIELD being in the dark. They've been doing well without him, have grown and were strong and trusted by the people they tried to protect. It had been years, anyway. They had moved on. Most of them, anyway.

Daisy was the exception. Daisy was always the exception.

"So this is home, today." Daisy mused excitedly, dropping her small bag by the door and skipping through the condo, glancing through all of the brightly lit rooms almost too quickly for him to believe that she really saw them.

Then she was in his arms, pressing her smile against his neck.

"This is home today." He agreed, closing his eyes as he held her.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this spontaneously late last night. Quite a few things are left dubious/abstract on purpose, like; Is Phil Coulson still human (however much of him was to begin with)? Who knows. The only thing that matters to him anymore are the moments he gets to spend with his soulmate.


End file.
